The strange case of a Victorian Underworld
by thecardinalsin66
Summary: In Victorian London a new threat emerges for both Vampires and Lycans. Can Amelia's coven stop this threat before completing their journey to the New World?
1. Chapter 1

THE STRANGE CASE OF A VICTORIAN UNDERWORLD

PROLOGUE

London, A city in revolution. Its world famous cobble streets shrouded in a cloak of fog. A cloak made toxic by the fumes and smoke that bellow from the chimneys, the river boats and the from the internal combustion engines that drive the cities new horseless carriages. This was a revolution, a revolution of industry. It had begun in the last century, yet still roared on in this one, even with the death of the great queen a year ago, London, the world continued to power forward. This was a revolution of industry... a revolution of steam.

In this fog a loan man walks through the streets of one of the more infamous parts of the city. The streets where in the last century a human named Jack had stained these cobbles red with the blood of the women who still plied their desperate trade. But humans, no matter how evil, did not scare this man. Nor did the fog or the choking steam, although it would be nice to be able to see the moon. The man's clothes are tattered, he wears a second hand suit, patched together with whatever scraps of material he could find, this was topped with a long thick woollen over coat that may have been issued to a soldier once, but was now to dirty to know for sure. His rugged face was unshaven, his shaggy hair contained within a battered old flat cap. But in his eyes was all the pride in the world. No, this city did not scare him. Nor did the footsteps that had been following him for ten minutes, stalking him. The man led his pursuer into the quiet alleyways of Whitechapel, where the gas lights did not shine, where the fog was thickest of all. The man walked to the end of the alleyway, he stopped when he got to a wall. He did not turn around; he just waited for his pursuer to follow him into the alleyway. His slow footsteps echoed as he came to a stop at the mouth of the alleyway. There was silence.

"Not bad." The man exclaimed, still not turning around to face his pursuer "You're too quiet to be a human, I nearly didn't hear you. But you're not a Death Dealer, what are you? Some kind of Vampire noble out for a bit of excitement?" The man's pursuer did not answer him, so the scruffy looking man turned around. "Ah yes." He smiled as he observed the man that stood at the mouth of the alley way, his large muscular form shrouded in fog. Through his brilliant blue eyes the man could see that his pursuer was tall, dressed head to toe in black finery, a three piece suit, topped with a cloak and top hat. "Every inch the vampire noble. Tell me..." The man stopped mid sentence as he flared his nostrils. "You're no vampire."

"No I'm not." His pursuer replied in a broad Scottish accent, his mouth forming a sinister smile beneath his top hat.

"What are you?" The man demanded

"I'm just trying to have fun." was the only reply he received.

"Do you know what I am?" The man asked in a menacing tone as he removed his flat clap and overcoat.

"I most certainly do." His Scottish pursuer grinned "You're my next victim."

The scruffy mans eyes turned a milky shade of blue, as his teeth elongated into wolf like fangs. His body stretched and contorted as his limbs transformed into razor sharp claws, the man now stood at over seven foot tall, he was a monster now, with drooling fangs and a vicious snarl. The well dressed man smiled, his pupils were jet black, and with a slight twitch his originally ordinary mouth became a row of razor sharp fangs. The monster and his strange pursuer lunged at each other in the London fog. A Lycan versus.... something else. They collided, it did not last long as the mighty beasts howl turned into a cry of pain, and then into a whimper. The huge beast collapsed to the ground at the well dressed mans feet. He tilted his head curiously as the mighty wolf withered back into its human state as he began to breathe his last.

"That was fun." The Scottish man smiled. He crouched down next to the man to get a closer look at his dying features "Tell me..." he whispered "...before you saw me, you thought I was a Vampire... what is a vampire?" The strange man did not get his answer as the now mutilated lycan lay dead on the floor. "Ah well." He shrugged as he recovered his top hat "Guess I'll just have to find out the old fashioned way." And with that he left, gliding effortlessly back into the fog, and once again staining the cobbles of Whitechapel red with blood.

..................................................................................................................................................................

Although still thick the oppressive London fog did not seem quite as daunting in the morning light, as the mornings due hangs from the few trees, and grips to every surface, a set of heavy footsteps pound the cobbled streets whistling as tune as he did. A policeman, a Bobby walking his beat clutching a solid wooden truncheon as he did. He knew his beat well; he checked every alleyway, every hiding place. He comes to an alleyway that was well known to him, a place where only the most pitiful of creatures dwell, the Gin drinkers, the opium dependants, the whores that had no choice but to go deeper into the night to earn their money. He looks into the alley, he rolls his eyes as he sees someone lying in the fog, a drunk no doubt "COME ON LETS BE HAVING YOU!" he calls out "You can't stay there all day!"When he got no answer he let out a heavy sigh, and truncheon in hand he went to investigate "I said..." The policeman stopped in mid sentence as he saw the twisted body, naked, bloodied and mauled. The policeman swallowed hard before reaching into his tunic pocket and pulling out a whistle. He blew hard into the whistle sending a shrieking howl into the streets of London "Murder!" He screamed as he blew hard into the whistle again "MURDER!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter I**

**Awakening**

_**Ordoghaz, Hungary 1901**_

Slumber. The most unique of sensations, it felt like an eternity but at the same time like the briefest of moments. To Slumber was to exist in an empty void, but also a busy vibrant world of your own imagination. Contrasts aside, there was one thing that was constant throughout the Slumber, darkness. Eternal darkness. Until, drip... drip... In a cold stone tomb the sweet sustaining red liquid courses through the dried up veins of a withered, decayed body. With every trickle it invades the darkness, shattering the slumber, until finally... Light.

A pair of emerald green eyes opens with a start as the decayed body springs into a seated position. The pitiful creature looks around its tomb, its flesh decayed, wrinkled with not a single hair on it. The bodies modesty covered by a black tunic and burial skirt adorned with Egyptian Talismans. The body sits in a coffin of gold and glass in the middle of a desolate stone tomb. It tries to form a word yet only a rasping croak will come out. Then the emerald eyes see it, a golden chalice filled with the sustaining red nectar, being offered to her by an ancient claw like hand. The creature seizes the chalice and chokes down the liquid. The emerald eyes look to the one who offered the blood, and they give a look of thanks.

"Welcome back my dear." A clod regal voice speaks.

The form nods "Thank you Viktor." A delicate female voice answered him "What of the world?"

"It is changing" Viktor answered her "A little too fast for my liking, but it is the perfect age for my dear Amelia."

The withered Elder hopped from her coffin and stood before Viktor. She held a withered arm up to her line of sight and inspected it thoroughly "I will be restored soon." She spoke coldly "Then I will begin my reign."

"And I must end mine." Viktor half smiled "I wonder what the world will be like when next I walk this Earth ."

"Only time will tell My Lord."

"Indeed My Lady. Indeed."

"Who is to be your Steward while you slumber?"

"Kraven." Viktor answered sternly.

"Kraven." Amelia chuckled slightly "The mighty Bureaucrat."

"He is a capable warrior! He defeated Lucian remember?"

"So he says." Amelia nodded "You have always favoured him."

"He is a loyal servant." Viktor sneered.

"He is the son you never had." Amelia half smiled "It blinds you to his ambition. I only hope it does not lead to betrayal, for that will surely sting you to your heart."

....................................................................................................................................................................

There was nothing more satisfying than restoration. When Amelia could see the ghastly facade of a withered corpse being beaten away by the beauty that a hundred Kings had fallen for. She was herself once again. A Slavic beauty with snow white skin, raven black hair and a tall slender figure. She is not dressed like the other women of the Coven, clearly she has not had time to brush up on the fashion of this world. Instead she wore a long toga like garment, the kind that she would have worn in Constantinople all those centuries ago; her raven hair is arranged in ringlets that fall about her face. She had announced herself to the Coven, gone through all the pomp and ceremony, now she must be about her business. The majority of the Coven had been dismissed; all that remained now were her highest ranking subjects. Before her golden throne stood two Death Dealers, Selene... Viktor's prodigal daughter, a macabre reflection of his own flesh and blood... Sonja. Next to her stood Nathan, Selene's counterpart, Amelia's captain, and then of course there were the council, the most senior of the pure blood nobles. However Amelia's watchful gaze fell on the remaining four figures in the room. Eli, her Viceroy, her oldest and most loyal ally, a man who was ancient before the bite, hunched over and weathered and dressed centuries out of date. Next to him, Lestat, a Merovingian nobleman, a favourite of Markus. Finally there was Kraven, and his ever present ally Soren. These men were special, they had been there since the beginning... the real beginning. They were the only ones that knew the truth. "Gentlemen" She spoke quietly, yet in a tone that commanded respect "Show me the world."

....................................................................................................................................................................

Amelia stood in a little used room of Ordoghaz, it was large, open plan and empty. Epic Murals filled the walls, and on the floor a huge map of the world. All the continents lie at Amelia's feet. Footsteps echoed in the empty room as the beautiful Elder was joined by three men, her ancient Viceroy stood in the corner so as to survey the whole room, two more sets of footsteps echoed as Amelia was joined by Kraven and Lestat. The two noblemen walked across the world, and stood at Amelia's side. The three of them stood on the scratched blue paintwork that was the Atlantic Ocean, and like three great monoliths, they looked down on the intricate drawings of Europe.

"Where do we stand?" Amelia asked casually, tilting her head in Kraven's direction.

Kravens handmade shoes creaked on the wooden floor as he left the Atlantic and walked onto mainland Europe. "Although our Estate here is sovereign territory, the humans who rule these lands have organised themselves into an entity called the Austro-Hungarian Empire. They are not a major power in themselves, virtually landlocked, but many in their court can trace their lineage back to the Corvinus."

"Their allies?" Amelia asked coldly

"Germany principally." Kraven commented, pointing to the map "In recent decades the Prussians have taken territory from surrounding countries to form a unified country. It is an economic and political power house growing stronger every day. Then there's Italy, since unification..."

"Italy is unified?" Amelia exclaimed "What of the Papal states?"

"The pope's land consist of little more than the Vatican itself. The Inquisition still in exists, but the Catholics haven't been a threat to us for a long time."

"To the East?" Amelia nodded past where Kraven was standing.

"The Russian Empire now stretches from Europe to the pacific; it has the biggest army in the world, and is ruled totally by the Romanovs. To be honest My Lady, a few areas of Industry aside, not much has changed in Russia since you last walked the Earth. In terms of the Far East, China largely keeps to itself, Japan is a country on the grow. Our... Cousins... in the Shogun Vampire clan have not made contact for many years, though I imagine they will want to see you."

"I imagine they will." Amelia agreed "What of Constantinople?"

"The heart of the Ottoman Empire My Lady, ruled by Sultans, they control the oil which drives the industry of the other Empires."

Amelia nodded intently; taking a moment to consider everything "Tell me Merovingian..." she began, turning her attention to Lestat "What has become of your former home land?"

Lestat instinctively left Amelia's side and stood over France "It is a Republic now." He told her, with a hint of pride.

"Power to the people." Amelia half laughed "is it working?"

"The people seem happy My Lady." Lestat bowed

"Things are indeed different." Amelia pondered, before pointing to the tiny island of Great Britain "Continue."

"Britain rules the ocean My Lady, it is the farthest reaching Empire in the world." Kraven outstretched his arm "India, Australia, Canada, Hong Kong... It's all under the Crown."

"Hhmmm" Amelia nodded "So this is what my world looks like. Tell me Steward, who holds the real power in this world?"

Kraven hesitated for a moment "The banks My Lady. They have bought up every government and every crown on the globe. The money houses control it all, the Rothschild's, the Rockefellers..."

"What of our old friends Valmont and Garison?" Amelia asked sternly

"Still going strong My Lady, they've set up secret Societies throughout the World. Our last confirmed sighting of Garrison was in London twelve years ago, Valmont is believed to be in the New World."

"Are these money men as powerful in the New World?" Amelia asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not yet." Kraven answered gravely "But we must act quickly, the old nobility is a dying breed. We are a decade at most away from a war that will tear Europe... that will tear the world in two. If we do not take the New World before these humans do, we will lose our position of power... and the inquisition will look like a picnic."

"Thank you Kraven." Amelia spoke coldly "That will be all for now gentleman. I have much to consider." The three men bowed and made their way to the door "Viceroy!" Amelia called out "Stay a moment." Eli bowed humbly and closed the door behind Kraven and Lestat before joining his mistress in the centre of the room. "You are my oldest and most trusted advisor Eli, you have been with me since the beginning. Well Viceroy, your Elder needs your guidance now, this could be our most important hour."

"How may I be of service My Lady."

"What is our best way into the New World?"

"Lycans My Lady." Eli nearly coughed "The whole continent is infested with them."

"How so."

"Refugees." Eli answered "All the lost and damned of Europe are sailing there in their thousands. A few hungry Lycans thrown into an overcrowded slum, and you have an infestation. You see it all started in the cities, but during their war, when North fought south, they transported Thousands of men along rail roads to the South, once the beasts were loose in the countryside, that was it."

"How many?"

"No one knows." The Americans have tried to round them up, they have even hired some specialist help."

"Mercenaries?" Amelia asked

"A few non-aligned Vampires" Eli nodded "An Abstract or two, but they have hardly made a dent."

Amelia paused for a moment and looked at the world beneath her feet. Her emerald gaze lay fixed on the massive land mass of the New World, North America, the United States. "Finally." She muttered "After all these centuries, another world to conquer. Eli."

"My Lady?"

"Send envoys to the American government. Tell them that our noble house will be happy to eradicate the Lycan Hoard from their land, in the same way that we have hunted them to extinction in this world."

"Who is to lead this mission?"

"I will lead it personally" Amelia smiled.

"For... for how long." Eli asked nervously

"For the entire length of my reign. This coven has grown too large, it is fat and stale. I will split the great coven, take half our number with me. I will build a seat of power in the New World, a vast estate of Sovereign Vampire territory that the mortals will surrender to us in humble gratitude for saving them from the Lycan pestilence."

"That will take some time." Eli croaked "Years possibly."

"Then we had best get started right away, I want to leave for London within the week."

"A week?" Eli coughed "But, what will become of this house?"

Amelia allowed a wry smile to creep across her face "This house has always been Viktor's, perhaps we should allow his Steward to run things."

"Kraven?" Eli spat "You trust him?"

"Of course not." Amelia grinned "Which is precisely why I do not want him anywhere near the New World. Let him run this house, give him an opportunity to prove his loyalty, at the very least, control of his own house may satisfy his ambition for a while."

"This is our ancestral home My Lady." Eli barked "It is too dangerous to leave Kraven here unchecked."

"I could not agree more." Amelia nodded "Which is precisely why you will remain here to keep an eye on him."

"Remain here?" Eli Swallowed hard "But you have never ruled without me by your side, who will guide you?"

"Ssshh" Amelia whispered soothingly as she brought a gentle finger to the Viceroys lips, before laying a gentle caress on his weathered cheek "My dear Eli. I am over one thousand years old, perhaps it is time I grew up."

....................................................................................................................................................................

_**The English Channel- HMS Victoria 1901 **_

Amelia had never seen such a vessel. As she stood on the deck of the iron clad battleship, she found it hard to comprehend how such an object did not simply sink to the bottom of the ocean. She was impressed by the sheer power of the vessel, its engine, its armour, its guns. She took a moment to sigh, she remembered what ships had looked liked the last time she walked this world. They were like works of art, hand crafted hulls, and mighty sails, they had been built with love. The ship she stood on now was so industrial, so lifeless. She was cold tonight, strange, she did not usually feel the cold. Tonight was different, as she stood alone on the deck of the ship wrapped in a fur shawl it finally occurred to her that she was leaving behind everything she had known for over a millennia. But there was something else, something that was always with her, something she tried so desperately to repress. Yet on nights like these there was no escaping it, a single tear formed in her Emerald eye and left a glistening trail as it snaked down her ivory white cheek. She was alone. She was so terribly alone. She thought back through the centuries, to the battles, the wars all of the empires she had seen rise to the pinnacle of achievement only to collapse back into the dust of history. She had seen so many things. Yet she had seen them alone. Suddenly in the darkness of the night, an image registered and she cast her emerald gaze to the distance. A wall of white cliffs awaited the solitary vessel. The lonely tear on Amelia's face faded into memory as she composed her thoughts. Soon she would be in England, the first stop on her long journey. Her temporary home awaited her, she knew London was not far.

....................................................................................................................................................................

_**Kensington, London 1901 **_

In the dead of night a caravan of horse drawn carriages makes its way through the cobbled streets of London. The caravan is surrounded by a mounted police escort, as well as by other mysterious riders in long coats and with eyes an unnatural shade of blue. The destination of these riders is a shining white mansion sat behind high stone walls and a solid iron gate, the coaches ride through the gates, up a short drive to a small court yard where they all roll to a stop. As the riders and passengers disembark the door to one of the carriages is held open, a single figure emerges, dressed in long layered skirt and tight bodice the Elder Amelia steps into the court yard of what is now her home. "My Lady?" her Envoy asks her nervously "Is everything to your liking?"

"Yes Dimitri." She nods politely "This will do fine."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER II**

**Homecoming**

_**Portsmouth Dockyards, England- 1902**_

He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped onto the wooden planks of the dock. Dry land at last. He cast a final glance over his shoulder to the huge iron clad vessel that had carried him here, the smoke from its engines bellowed into the sky, as the hundreds of other passengers streamed down the gangway. The dockyards were like a city in their own right, so busy, so noisy. It was the noise that got to him, the fog horns of the ships, the clatter of crates being unloaded, the bellows of the fish sellers who tried to sell to anyone that walked past. Every language of the globe was spoke here, people from all corners of the Empire and beyond, soldiers, sailors, merchants, dock workers, traders, and him, of course. The young man loses himself in a sea of people as he heads towards... he was not sure what he was heading towards. He is a young man, eighteen, maybe older an impressive size, standing at more than six foot, with a muscular build. His hair is unkempt, his face unshaven for a day or two, his clothes a mismatched suit of grey and black, with a tatty shirt on underneath. He carries a flat cap in his right hand, his eyes are a shade of brown, a dead brown like an autumn leaf. The young man comes to a stop outside a building, a pub, the sign says The Lord Nelson. Stepping through the door he is not surprised by what he sees, a few drunk sailors, some talking to each other, some barely conscious. Making his way to the bar he sits on a stool. The landlord simply nods his head.

"Pint of bitter please." The young man asks pointing to one of the taps, the Landlord says nothing as he pours the drink and places it in front of the young man "Cheers" the young man mutters as he fumbles in his pocket for a meagre handful of coins, he places two on the bar, the Landlord nods and accepts payment. The young man brings the glass to his lips and lets out a contented sigh "I needed that." He whispered to himself.

The landlord looked over at the young man "Nice tan." He spoke gruffly.

"Thanks." The young man nodded

"You been to the colonies I take it? The Boers, you've been fighting."

"Yeah." The young man side as he took a large sip from his glass "I've been fighting."

"Army?" The Landlord asked

"Royal Marines." The young man corrected him

"What are you doing back in Blighty? Were you injured?"

"No." The young man laughed slightly as he took another large sip "They kicked me out, long story."

The Landlord saw how quickly the young man was going through his pint and poured him another "On the house." He said, taking a friendlier tone "I see a lot of lads like you come through here, what's the plan now?"

The young man shrugged "Do you know where I can get a couple of days work down here."

"Why just a couple of days?" The Landlord asked

"I need passage back to London, and I'm not exactly wealthy at the moment."

"You could try the docks, its hard work, but I'd say it was your best bet."

"Yeah I'll try that." The young man nodded "Thanks."

The Landlord went about his business and the young man went back to his pint "A tragic story if I ever heard one." A voice exclaimed. The young man turned his head to see a white haired old man dressed as if he had been on safari clutching a glass of whiskey, a glass that was clearly not his first of the day. There was something in his voice that tweaked the young man's interest; he was clearly a wealthy man, aristocracy. The man continued "Yes dear boy a truly tragic story." The old man walked over to the young man and placed a hand on his shoulder "A brave soldier of the Empire, cast out by incompetent senior officers. Say no more dear boy I was a fighting man myself in my youth. Nothing changes." The old man shook his empty glass at the landlord indicating that he wanted another "You know my boy I have spent a lot of time in Africa, a unique place, nowhere else like it, I spend most of my time hunting really... but I still have the occasional business appointment over there."

"Is that a fact?" The young man sighed in boredom as he continued to drink his pint.

"Quite so young man." The old man continued as he took his fresh glass from the landlord "Thank you good sir." He exclaimed before clinking the glass against the young man's "To your good health my dear fellow."

"To yours." The young man replied uninterested.

"Yes you see it my business ventures in Africa that have lead me to find myself in this God forsaken shit hole of a tavern. No offence my good sir." He called to the land lord "You see my business is in import and export, specific items, antiques, items of interest."

The young man scoffed slightly "You mean you steal native treasures from Africa and sell them to the highest bidder in Europe."

"I would not have put it quite so bluntly, but essentially yes. It is a very lucrative enterprise."

"It's a very dangerous enterprise." The young man corrected him.

"Oh quite so dear boy, quite so. You see I am in something of a quandary I have in my possession a certain trinket that I was trying to obtain for a client of mine. My associate and I were successful of course, and we were able to bring said trinket back here. However it would appear that someone else wanted the trinket as well, and they will go to any length to get it. They have already killed my associate, and now I find myself held up here."

"This associate of yours..." The young man began "...Is that a nice way of saying hired muscle."

"It is indeed dear boy, and good muscle he was to, a former soldier. He put up quite a fight, shame really."

"Why are you telling me this?" The young man asked suspiciously.

"You are big lad, strong looking, and there's something else, something about you...."

"And what might that be?" The young man asked

The old man leant in close and whispered in his ear "You are a killer, there is no hiding it. I could do with someone like you."

The young man thought for a moment "What's the job?" He finally asked

"Get me and my delivery back to London, taking care of anything we may run into on the way."

"What is my payment?" The old man took out a scrap of paper and jotted down an amount "Generous." The young man nodded

"Plus expenses of course." The old man added.

"I'll get you to London." The young man nodded "But I'm gonna need a gun."

The old man hesitated for a moment "I am not sure where you can get one around here."

"The revolver in your right breast pocket will do fine." The young man grinned.

"That would leave me defenceless." The old man replied

"You can use the derringer strapped to your ankle."

"Ha!" The old man exclaimed "Very impressive."

"We'll leave in the morning." The young man added "At first light."

"What should we do in the mean time?"

The young man held his empty glass up "Your round I believe."

The old man smiled and nodded "Hawthorne." The man said offering his hand "Lord Sebastian Hawthorne."

"Davenport." The young man replied

"Do you have a first name?"

"Malachi."

....................................................................................................................................................................

_**Portsmouth Train station- 1902**_

"I rather think I had too much to drink last night old boy." The old man groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah you were putting them away." Malachi nodded as he continued to look around the platform, he was about to say something else when something caught his eye "Shit." He spat.

"What?" Lord Hawthorne demanded

"I think we have company." The two watched as along the platform three men approached them, two of the men were very large, dressed like dock workers, they followed a well dressed man in a bowler hat, he wore a blue suit and seemed to be walking with a purpose. "Do you know him?"

"Unfortunately." Hawthorne sighed "Lucas! Splendid to see you again."

"Lord Hawthorne." The man in the bowler hat greeted him "I believe you have something that belongs to me."

Malachi's hand slid into his pocket to withdraw the revolver , only to be greeted with the sight of two more pistols pointing at him from beneath the coats of the two large men. They were clearly professionals, they held the guns in just the right way that nobody else on the platform would be able to see. "I'll take that." One of the men said as he reached into Malachi's coat and discreetly removed the revolver.

"Be my guest." Malachi grinned, once he was satisfied that both the man's hands were full he lunged forward, delivering a head but to his face, as the man's nose exploded in a bloody shower Malachi wrenched the two guns from his hands, pointing one at the other bodyguard, and one at the man called Lucas. "Drop your gun." He told the bodyguard firmly. The large man looked to Lucas for approval, it came in the form of a quick nod. The gun was dropped to the floor, and kicked away along the platform. "Good." Malachi nodded "Now let me be frank, I do not know what this man has that is so valuable to you, frankly I do not care. I strongly suggest you forget about whatever it is and let us go about our business."

"That is not going to happen my boy." Lucas informed him "You are in a whole world of trouble."

"I wish you hadn't said that." Malachi sighed before squeezing the trigger on one of his pistols, the gun exploded into life as a bullet tore through the head of one of the bodyguards. It only took a second, then the screaming started as everyone else on the platform ran for cover. "Now you know I am willing to kill. I could just as easily kill you two as well. But I will not, I will allow you to go, take my offer and accept that some you win... and some you lose."

The man called Lucas swallowed hard and adjusted his bowler hat "A... most generous offer. My complements Lord Hawthorne." Lucas and his remaining bodyguard backed away a few steps before breaking into a run.

"Good show boy." Hawthorne exclaimed "I knew you would come in handy."

Malachi nodded as he looked down at the life he had just taken, he then looked around the platform at all the people who were hiding in fear "I don't think we can take the train now."

....................................................................................................................................................................

_**The British Museum, London- 1902**_

A horse drawn carriage rolls to a halt at the steps of the British museum. After the paying the man a generous tip Lord Hawthorne and his young associate disembark and begin to climb the stone staircase towards the awe inspiring building that was the museum. "A fine job boy." Hawthorne exclaimed slapping Malachi on the back "a fine job. You have done as you have promised, you have delivered me and my prize to the museum, for that I am in your debt. Ah!" He exclaimed again as half a dozen men came into sight at the top of the stone staircase "These are my associates. Gentlemen this is Malachi."

Malachi nodded in acknowledgement at the men that awaited him before turning to Hawthorne. "When do I get paid?"

"Ah my dear boy, tonight I am going to give you something far more valuable than mere money, tonight you learn a lesson that very few do, the secret to becoming wealthy."

"And what might that be?" He asked nervously as Hawthorne's associates began to surround him.

"Well dear boy..." There was a sickening thud as one of the men struck Malachi on the back of the head, he could not tell what it was that hit him, but it was heavy and metal, Malachi fell to the floor, his vision was blurry "... the secret to becoming wealthy is to never give away penny you do not have to." Hawthorne nodded to one of the men who again struck Malachi in the back of the head.

....................................................................................................................................................................

"Oi lad!" A stern voice shouted "Lad you alright?"

A groggy Malachi opened his eyes, his head was still ringing "Shit" he muttered, there was someone standing over him, he knew it was daylight now, it took him a few seconds to realise who was standing over him, it was a police officer. "Morning constable." Malachi groaned wearily as he managed to sit up. He was still on the steps of the British museum.

"Have you been robbed lad?" The officer asked

"No I'm fine." He sighed

"Are you sure?" The officer quizzed him

"Yes thank you constable." He repeated "I'll be fine."

"Very well then." The officer nodded "Move along lad, you can't sleep here all day."

Malachi got up and gingerly made his way down the stairs, he looked up at the morning light and smiled, he had no money, no job and no prospects, his head hurt like hell, and he may well be wanted for murder, but he still smiled... he was home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter III**

**Two lonely souls**

_**London 1902**_

He had been walking all morning, well it seemed like all morning, it was probably only a couple of hours. He was back in London, but that was as far as his plan went. He walked back to the one place that he vowed he would never return to, he stops at a heavy wooden door, he had seen so much horror in his life, yet there was something about this place that still filled him with dread. The sign above the door read "St Mary's parish church, all welcome." He crossed the threshold and entered the church. It was eerily quiet, Malachi stood between the rows of wooden seats, as an ornate carving of a crucified Jesus looked down at him with judging eyes, he cast his glance around the room to the stain glass depictions of the Virgin Mary, the Saints and the Arch angels. There was an echo of footsteps, a frail old priest came into view, he had white hair, he was friendly looking, he was reading from a piece of paper, probably a hymn sheet, he had not taken the time to look up at his guest. "There are no services this morning." He spoke warmly in an Irish accent "But if you bear with me, I'm sure I can help."

"Hello Father." Malachi spoke coldly.

The priests demeanour changed, he placed the hymn sheet down on the alter and looked upon his visitor with stern eyes. "Malachi." He spoke in a empty tone "So you're back then."

"I'm back." He nodded.

"Where have you been all these years?" He asked in an emotionless voice.

"The colonies." He replied

"You mean the war?" the priest corrected him.

"Yeah the war." Malachi nodded.

"I take it you have killed?" The old priest asked.

"I have." Malachi nodded coldly

"Why are you here?" The old priest demanded

"I thought I'd say a prayer." Malachi grinned.

"Don't waste your breath Malachi." The Priest chastised him "You are beyond redemption."

"I am what you made me father."

"I did not make you a monster Malachi. Now why are you here?"

Malachi shrugged "I didn't know where else to go, just wanted to check in on a few things, how's the orphanage?"

"The same as ever." The priest answered abruptly "Too many mouths, not enough money."

"You should write to the Pope, see if he can spare a few pennies for the children of Christ."

"Do not mock our ways Malachi!" The priest scalded him

"How's Maria." Malachi asked nervously.

"Better off without you!"

The priests words stung him for a moment, but only a moment "Good" he nodded "She deserves some happiness."

"Are you going to try and see her?"

"No." Malachi said shaking his head "I'm no good for her. I'll only hurt her in the long run."

"It is good to see there is at least some decency in you." The priest nodded "Will these visits be a regular occurrence?"

"No Father." Malachi sighed "This will be the last time I step foot in this house."

The old priest nodded "Was there anything else?"

"Well now you mention it, I'm a bit short at the moment don't suppose you could lend me a bit of cash."

The priest went to the collection box and emptied it into Malachi's hands "Take this and go. You are not welcome here anymore."

"Thanks." Malachi smiled as he looked down at the coins "This should keep me in whores and drink for a couple of days."

The old priest laughed slightly "Just go. When then runs out don't come back, go and see that... sodomite you were friends with, I hear he is quite a success now."

"Steven." Malachi laughed out loud "What's he up to these days."

"You mean apart from offending God with his choice of.... companions." The old priest sneered.

"So he's still batting for the other team." Malachi grinned "Glad to see I'm not the only pariah that came through these doors."

"Just leave Malachi." The old man sighed "Leave... and do not come back."

* * *

_**London, Kensington 1902 AD**_

The Immortal leader of the Vampire bloodline sits upon her lonely throne. When she left her ancestral homeland she had a clear plan, get to the New World, build a new powerbase form her own coven. But that would take time, now she was here, in England, all there was to do was wait. She allowed herself to drift back to the land she left behind, she smiled to herself as she thought of her Viceroy... and then she thought back even further to another time, to another life... to her father. But this was a life time ago... now she was alone. The beautiful Princess was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of her throne room door opening. Her emerald gaze fell upon the captain of her death dealers who dropped to a knee in the doorway. "My Lady."

"Rise my captain." She spoke softly "What news of this city?"

"There are Lycans here My Lady, but they are well hidden they remain elusive."

"I see." Amelia nodded "Not to worry, we are only here as a temporary measure, the Lycans are inconsequential... we have hunted them to the brink of extension."

"Of course My Lady." Her captain bowed somewhat unconvinced.

"Perhaps I should see this city for myself." Amelia spoke somewhat distantly.

"As you wish My Lady. I will have your escort ready by sundown."

"No." She snapped "I will see this city through my own eyes."

The captain rolled his eyes as his mistress left, she was so headstrong. It made his already difficult job that much harder, after a moment's hesitation he beckoned over another death dealer with a slight wave of his hand. "Wait until she leaves." He practically whispered "Then follow her, stick to the roof tops... do not let her see you."

"She's an Elder." The other Death Dealer spoke up "Does she really need us looking after her?"

"We are new to this city." The captain reminded him "I do not want to take any risks. And leave your shot gun here... I want you to keep a low profile."

* * *

In another affluent part of the city, a place not far from the vampires new home a young man takes his lover in his arms. This young man was a success story, his horrific upbringing had provided him the inspiration to write stories and poetry that were well received by the upper echelons of London's society. He was a handsome man in his early twenties, his physiche was impressive, his features soft, his hair a mane of brown curls that fell about his face. He was a child plucked from obscurity, his name is Steven Harrington, and at the moment he is the toast of London. He looks down at the naked young man lying in his arms and gently kisses his forehead "My beautiful Gregory" he whispers his voice soft and refined "My muse."

"My love" Gregory smiles back.

"You know..." Steven Continued... but then he stopped, something had caught his attention a noise. His soft features suddenly became stern "Wait here." He spoke coldly

"What is it?" Gregory panicked "what..."

"Be quiet." Steven breathed heavily as he quickly put on a pair of trousers and threw a white shirt over his body. He quietly made his way out of his bedroom and along the landing. He paused at the top of the stairs leaning on the banister, he listened to the darkness. Then he heard it again... someone was in the house. He crept down the stairs, his beautiful features now a scowl, he hesitates for a moment as the stairs creak beneath him, he continues, finally stepping onto the hard wooden floor of the hallway. The hallway is massive, leading to a plush reception area. He glances at the front door a glass panel has been smashed, the front door opened and quickly closed again. He makes his way into the reception area and froze as he sees a form in the darkness, only a shadow, its movements sluggish, he can tell he has his back to him. Steven clenches his fist, he hurries across the floor, the startled form turns just as Steven took a swing at him, his fist connected he heard bone crack, the form fell to the floor. Steven looked down at the intruder, one kick to the ribs, then another, then another. Steven bent down grabbing the intruder by the neck and dragging him across a couch.

"Shit... get off me." The intruder choked

"YOU!" Steven yelled as he released the grip sending the intruder back to the floor."

"Fuck sake" The intruder moaned as he brought a hand to his face "You broke my nose."

"You're lucky that's not all I broke." He spat as he lit an oil lamp illuminating the darkened room and the bloody face of his guest "Why did you break in?" He demanded.

The other man Shrugged "I thought you'd be asleep." He said, his words slurred.

"Jesus Christ, how much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough clearly." The guest smiled

Rolling his eyes Steven went to his drinks cabinet and poured to glasses "This is good stuff." She sighed "Seems a shame to waste it on you." The two toasted and downed the whiskey "When did you get back Malachi?"

"I came into Portsmouth two days ago, got back to London this morning."

"Good journey?" Steven asked

"Eventful." Malachi half laughed.

Steven hesitated for a moment "good war?"

It was now Malachi's turn to hesitate "Depends on your definition of good."

"Its good to see you again." Steven told him

"You too mate." Malachi nodded

"I've got company upstairs." Steven told him "Let me send him on his way and we can have a proper drink."

"You still a bender?" Malachi goaded him

"I just knocked you on your ass."

"True." Malachi laughed "You seen much of Maria?"

"Maria's doing well Malachi... I think she is actually happy."

"That's good." Malachi nodded.

"You're not going to try and see her are you Malachi?"

"No." He sighed "No I'm not."

"Good." Steven nodded "Now let's get drunk."

* * *

A lone Death Dealer leaps roof to roof surveying the streets below, he had one simple job, keep an eye on Amelia. Not so simple after all. This wasn't working; he dropped from the roof to an alley below. He needed to regroup.

"Good evening sir." A voice greeted him in a Scottish accent

The Death Dealer turned to see a well dressed man standing at the other end of the alleyway "I'm very busy." The Death Dealer dismissed him.

"Oh I know." The man smiled "I have been watching you for some time." The man removed his top hat and seemed to change; there was a flash, a row of razor sharp teeth and contortions. Then they were gone again.

"You're not a Lycan." The Death Dealer sneered as he bore his fangs.

"No. But I know your name... VAMPIRE"

The Death Dealer raised a pistol, a single shot was fired, but it was too late. He lay fallen, his attacker nothing but a memory.

* * *

One hour later

The body of the fallen Death Dealer lay prone on the cobbles of London, barely recognizable, barely intact. Two men in suits stand over the fallen soldier, one with an impressive handle bar moustache. "He's killed a vampire." The other man speaks

"Yes... that will be a problem." The moustached man nodded "We cannot keep this a secret any longer... this could be a blessing in disguise, all our efforts to contain him have failed. We could use the vampires help. Send a messenger to their council, and arrange to have the body brought back to them.


End file.
